Back Where I Belong
by ValidEntry
Summary: Sort of, kinda, I don't know, maybe a "sequel" to Taking Back What is Mine.  What happens when Rachel gets a part on Glee?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So…I was joking around on Twitter that an alternate ending to Taking Back What is Mine would consist of Quinn forcing Rachel to stay on Ryan Murphy's Glee. And that is the shortest of reasons behind how this "sequel" came about. Do I really need to tell you that I own none of the ladies and gentlemen (either real or imagined) that I mention in this story? Warning: This is a crack!fic if ever there was one. I mean, like, for real. **

Quinn flattened her tongue against Rachel's inner thigh. She grazed with her teeth, soothed with her kisses. Quinn lifted her head only the slightest bit so that she could leisurely swallow the pill that she'd just a moment ago placed on Rachel's clit.

"Oh, wow, that's a new trick." Rachel's body showed its apperception by arching upward. The script dropped from her hand. Pages scattered like so many dominoes toppling over on the hardwood floor of their bedroom.

Quinn once again placed herself between Rachel's legs as Rachel slumped back with a sigh. Quinn bit back a scathing remark and, instead, she aimed to once again pacify Rachel. "Calm thy self, woman."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and dropped an arm over her face. "Those pages weren't numbered, Quinn."

Quinn scooted further up Rachel's body. She straddled Rachel's stomach and roughly pulled the other girl's hand from her face. "Rachel, I'm very,_ very_ interested in having sex with you right now."

"_You're_ the one that brought me the script," Rachel protested.

Quinn arched her brow at Rachel. "Do you make it a habit of reading scripts while naked in your bed? With your legs spread, no less?"

Rachel jutted her finger against Quinn's chest. "_You_ took off my clothes. _You _spread my legs."

"I was_ trying_ to get your attention. My guess is that you have that script memorized. Come and play with me a while." Quinn rocked against Rachel. Probably a little harder than was necessary.

Rachel grabbed her by the hips and halted Quinn's forward motion. "One can never prepare too much for an audition. And I haven't been on one in_ years_. Not since I started writing my first novel."

With a grunt of frustration, Quinn rolled off Rachel and landed with a light thud on her side of the bed.

Rachel laughed and sidled closer to Quinn. "Help me read lines?"

"Not a chance. I have to _help_ myself get off before I'll be of any use to you."

Rachel was already up from the bed and on the floor picking up pages of the script, her forehead tightened in concentration. "Did you know that the lead female character falls in love with a closeted gay boy?"

Quinn did not know. Nor did she care.

Rachel went on, "And he's hiding a very deep, potentially scarring secret. We don't find out about it in this script, though."

Quinn groaned and buried her face in a pillow. "Rachel, either join me on the bed or take your precious script somewhere else."

"I want to run through it one more time, okay? Give me twenty minutes. After that, I'm all yours."

Quinn suppressed a frown. "What a liar you are, Rachel Berry! You'll read that thing at least three more times before you even _consider _coming back in here."

Rachel hesitated by the door. "Auditions are in a few days, and while I haven't made up my mind about actually trying out for the part, I think it best that I at least over-familiarize myself with the material."

"Can you at least promise not to read all the parts out loud…in differing accents?" Quinn found that little quirk of Rachel's particularly maddening.

Rachel skipped out of the room. "No promises," she shouted back to Quinn.

Quinn grinned up at the ceiling. She could give a fuck if Rachel came back to bed that night. Or ever, actually. She was beyond pleased that Rachel was so enthralled with the script. Because that script was Quinn's golden ticket. She could already fucking feel it.

(Break)

Quinn's face ached from the effort of smiling. She'd been keeping up this façade for what must have been hours now. The fact that she'd only been in the coffee shop for twenty minutes was totally irrelevant. Forever probably wouldn't take up as much of her time. The grin on her face stretched tighter, managed to widen that much more. But, oh my God, look at that dog's eyes!

She reached into her jacket pocket for a pill. It was one of three Rachel had given her that morning before sending her out the door with a quick peck on the lips and a promise that she could have an extra Xanax that evening.

Quinn brought her attention back to the woman sitting across from her. Yeah, there was simply no doubt that she was going to have to numb herself at least a little to survive this conversation. She dry-swallowed the pill. She had no plan to take the other two, now _or_ later in the day. She'd been tapering off, holding herself back. It was a real bitch. It wasn't always working. There were still too many days when Quinn surrendered, let Rachel keep winning.

But Quinn was determined not to remain the loser of her own life. Plenty of evenings now found Quinn with pills remaining in her possession. She'd taken to hording them in a safe that she hid in one of the dance studio's storage closets. She couldn't quite make herself throw the pills away. What if Rachel found out she was up to something? She'd need back-up supplies if that were ever the case. Quinn kept the key to the safe taped under her desk. Far, far under it. And, today, she was going to move it. She'd attach the key behind one of the framed photos in her office. Best if she made sure that the key never stayed in one location for too long…lest Rachel somehow discover it.

It was of paramount importance to Quinn that Rachel not figure out what she was doing. She was relying heavily on Rachel staying blissfully unaware that Quinn was working her way out of the dream.

(Break)

Dianna's squeal of excitement jolted Quinn back to her surroundings.

Dianna moved her laptop closer to Quinn. "I think this is my favorite of Arthur. Look, we matched on Halloween!"

This was the third video of that bug-eyed French bulldog that Quinn was going to have to endure. The first – titled Arthur Agron Chases a Bird – was cute, she supposed. The second – which one could find under the label Arthur Agron Catches His Reflection – was moderately tolerable. But a third video? Quinn eyed the script that rested on Dianna's side of the table. She'd just have to feign interest for however long it took.

She watched as Arthur, dressed as a pint-sized Ninja turtle, waddled closer to the camera – Jesus, his eyes! – and sat down by his owner.

Quinn fought back her laughter. "What are you dressed up as, exactly?"

Dianna glanced away from her laptop and over to Quinn. "You don't recognize Reptar? From Rugrats?"

"I…uh…didn't watch a lot of TV growing up."

Dianna waved her hands dismissively. "It doesn't matter. You're probably tried of videos of someone else's dog. We came here for a reason." Dianna pointed to the script.

Quinn sat up a little straighter. Now she was in business!

She'd only paid scant attention when she'd first heard this Dianna chick talk about a network show in development at FOX. Quinn's office was directly adjacent to one of the classrooms at the studio. She often listened in on conversations coming out of that room. It kept her from focusing too much on that Rachel voice inside her head.

She'd unconsciously absorbed quite a bit of information about Dianna Agron this way. Quinn knew, for instance, that Dianna had recently moved to LA from San Francisco. She was an actress but her true passion was her website. Yet what had piqued Quinn's interest the most was that TV show Dianna kept talking about with the other students in her ballet class.

Maybe Quinn had zeroed in on it because the show was about a Glee club. In Ohio, of all fucking places! Talk about the past colliding with her. It was enough to give her whiplash.

But what really and truly _kept_ her attention was Dianna's depiction of the creator of the show and the rumors that the contract connected to it was absurdly restrictive. Dianna had off-handedly stated that you'd practically be signing your life away if you became a member of the cast.

And, in a rare flash of clarity, Quinn saw an opportunity. A potentially life-altering one.

Rachel was working on a new novel but had stalled out. And she was already bored of giving singing lessons at the studio. She'd moaned to Quinn for weeks that she needed a challenge, a new goal, something exciting in her life. Could Quinn convince Rachel that this TV show idea was "something exciting" enough to pursue? Of course she'd leave out all the bits about crazy bosses and off-putting contracts. That was the kind of knowledge that would only serve to deter Rachel. And Quinn didn't want that. Not at all.

Flipping through the script Dianna had handed over to her, Quinn asked the questions that had been on her mind for days.

"And you're _sure _about the contract? It's _that _bad?"

Dianna leaned forward. "I was going to try out for the lead role…but I have a girlfriend."

Quinn nodded sagely. "Don't we all."

Dianna gave her a questioning look. "Anyway, I know someone who already got a part and, well, I've seen the contract. They have a say in your personal life." Dianna lowered her voice. "I'd have to pretend I was straight."

Quinn was delighted by this bit of news. She could already see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. "And the guy in charge? He's that big of an asshole?"

"He's like a Mafia Don mixed in with equal parts crazed tyrant. Add a dash of pretentious blowhard and a pinch of egomania…and you have Ryan Murphy."

Quinn was impressed. "Do you always describe people as if they were ingredients for a recipe?"

"Not often. But some people truly deserve special categories. They are _just _that out there."

Quinn immediately thought of Rachel. "He sounds magical," she deadpanned.

"Uh-huh. Magical, but without the K."

Quinn's face creased into a frown. "Pardon me? Is that some form of Bay Area slang?"

Dianna played with the straw in her cup. "Nevermind. You're _sure _you want this script? I'm not over-exaggerating. They'll control most of your life."

Quinn was temporarily riveted by the contents of Dianna's drink. She struggled against the urge to ask the woman what could possibly convince someone to willingly ingest something that was so…green. It looked like goo. Quinn was mildly repulsed.

Shaking her head to clear her concentration, Quinn smiled at Dianna. "Oh, the script isn't for me. I'd like to pass it off to a friend of mine. She's a real up-and-comer. And I'm positive she won't mind any contractual restrictions."

Dianna shrugged. "Well, I already pity her if they offer her a role."

Quinn adopted her most comforting tone. "No need to worry about her. She'd make a _wonderful _addition to the cast."

(Break)

"You're going to have to pick me up. I wrecked the car on the way to the audition."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Jesus, again with the car, Rachel?"

Rachel's voice was muffled. "I think I still have glass in my hair."

Quinn paused a moment to regroup. "Were you late? Did you fuck it up? You know this is a great opportunity for you. So help me God, Rachel…"

Rachel interrupted, "No, no! I was on time. And I'm certain that I nailed it. But could you _please _hold off on your lecture until after you come get me?"

Quinn wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Rachel. She was about to tell her as much when Rachel said something that caused Quinn's mood to shift 180 degrees.

"I have to hang up. I'm getting another call. I think it's someone from the show!"

Well, that was quick, Quinn thought. This had to mean good news, right? Surely it must. Rachel had a certain impact on people. Quinn could never deny that. She could honestly see the casting directors and the creators being instantly charmed by Rachel. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that they'd offer her the part straight off.

By force of habit, Quinn took a pill. She needed to steady her nerves. She was on the precipice. She just needed to make sure Rachel jumped first. Ten minutes later, when her phone vibrated nosily on her desk, Quinn was barely beginning to feel that well-loved numbness blanket over her from the inside out.

Rachel didn't even bother giving Quinn a chance to say hello. "Quinn Fabray, you are officially speaking to the actress who will portray Lea Michele on the new FOX hit…Glee!"

Smiling dopily, Quinn sat back in her chair with a loud exhale of relief. Rachel had _no idea_ what was in her future. And Quinn would find a way to keep her blind until _after _Rachel signed her contract.

"Quinn, are you hearing me? Let's celebrate. Take me somewhere fancy. I'm in the mood for oysters."

Quinn stood up and moved toward the door. Rachel was prattling on about her character arc. Quinn tuned her out. She stopped right at the studio's exit and turned back around. Rachel was saying something about a Journey song. She put her hand over the phone so that she could block out Rachel's voice. There was something she needed to do before she went after Rachel.

Quinn instructed her assistant to send Dianna Agron a bouquet of flowers. And, on a whim, she also asked her to order a dozen specialty made, gourmet dog treats for one Arthur Agron.

Let no one ever say that Quinn Fabray never paid her debts.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Please keep in mind that this story is 100% crazy in tone and intent. No offense meant to any persons who are characters in the story. I readily admit that I "borrowed" from real life events, but I altered them quite a bit. Or a lot. However you want to view it. **

Quinn pressed one jittery arm around Rachel's neck as she smashed their faces together. Airports always rattled Quinn, made her queasy and unsettled. And she'd just spent the past ten hours on a plane from London back to LA. In first class, granted. But still beside Rachel Berry, who was now more likely to have someone refer to her as Lea than as Rachel.

Glee was making waves for Rachel Berry. Small ones, so far. But Quinn sensed the tsunami coming for Rachel. And she wanted a beachside view for when the storm tide drowned Rachel in its wake.

Quinn's sunglasses pushed tightly, painfully against the bridge of her nose as she nestled her face against Rachel's collarbone. She let her nervous energy launch her performance. Let it guide her in her efforts to deceive Rachel.

Rachel's laugh was curious, a little tired-sounding. "While I'm always appreciative of your random displays of affection, what's with the hug? You all right? Do you need a Xanax?"

Quinn fashioned Rachel with her best attempt at a pout. "We had _such_ a nice vacation and they want you _right back _on set. You can't even go home first."

Rachel tensed and pulled away from Quinn so that she could reach for her bags. Quinn reeled Rachel back in and clung to her.

It was really all another lever in Quinn's game: Hug Rachel. As often as possible. So long as they were in public – _very_ public – places.

Rachel reluctantly pried Quinn's fingers from around her waist. Sighing, Rachel said, "We start filming the second half of the season today and I_ cannot_ be late to set." Mouth quivering, Rachel forced her eyes on Quinn. "It's…it's part of the contract."

Quinn bobbed her head in sympathy. "Sometimes, I wish you'd never signed that damn contract."

Rachel's smile was rueful, borderline strained. "But, Quinn, where would I be if I weren't Lea Michele?"

(Break)

Mere days after Rachel had learned of her new role, she'd flown to Lima to celebrate with her fathers. She'd claimed to Quinn that she "simply had no idea" when she'd next be able to visit them once shooting started on Glee.

Oh, and while she was away…could Quinn be a darling and pick up Rachel's contract? Give it a cursory glance until her return to LA would allow her to read over it herself?

Quinn instinctively knew that Rachel would pick apart every word of the contract, tear at each sentence until she unraveled it to its barest elements. She would have to read the contract through Rachel Berry's eyes but with Quinn Fabray's motives in mind.

Quinn didn't speak the language of contract negotiation, but she knew which clauses she sought. It was like a scavenger hunt with words. Dianna had been undeniably spot-on: This contract was utterly the worst.

Having carefully scanned it through twice - and knowing that Rachel would meticulously do so no less than twenty times – Quinn found her prize: The three golden passages to Quinn's freedom.

Quinn uploaded the document to a PDF file and removed the clauses that would surely have made Rachel hesitate, reevaluate, and ultimately refuse to formally accept her role on Glee:

Clause 1: The creators of Glee and FOX studios maintain the legal and binding right to retain principal actors/actresses under contract for a minimum of seven (7) years.

Clause 2: Any and all physical, romantic, and/or sexual relationships must be preapproved and/or supervised by the creators of Glee and FOX studios.

Clause 3: Members of the cast are required to endorse the show via – but not limited to – the following methods: Social media, interviews, photo shoots, touring, attending award shows, and pre-scripted responses to media questions.

Satisfied, damn near electrified by her alterations, Quinn was in all reality anxious for Rachel to come home. She didn't miss Rachel. That was certainly not the issue. She was merely already longing for that (hopefully) inevitable moment when Rachel Berry would become the puppet of "the creators of Glee and FOX studios."

(Break)

The first thing that Rachel asked for upon her return from Lima was the contract. Settling herself at the kitchen table to read, Rachel glanced up long enough to remind Quinn that the pills were in Rachel's suitcase. She could go ahead and take a couple. If she wanted. If she'd splurged over the weekend and prematurely used up the allotment that Rachel had left for Quinn while she was in Lima. Rachel went back to the contract. Quinn went for the suitcase.

Why not have herself a pill or two? Maybe even three. She'd only taken one daily during Rachel's absence. Quinn could count that as a record. More progress. But it would be so much more entertaining, liberating if she were a little washed out while she watched Rachel get nearer and nearer to those surging waves that were going to crash over her.

It took Rachel two days and thirty or so read-throughs (Quinn had once again underestimated Rachel) to decide that she was satisfied with the various stipulations and conditions set forth for her. Quinn smiled lovingly at Rachel when she proudly announced that she was ready to drive to FOX and make it official.

The contract Rachel authorized was the one handed over to her by a FOX executive. The contract that Quinn scattered on their bed later the same day was taken from Quinn's modified version. She was soon going to throw it away. It had only been from a "working" draft. The actual signed copy was most likely already stored in some vault at the FOX studios. But Quinn had one final use for hers. She'd duplicated all the printed segments that had included information that Quinn had deleted from the original. Because when Quinn fucked Rachel later that night, she wanted the girl to grab at the strewn pages surrounding them on the sheets. She intended for Rachel to come – over and over - on a bed of lies.

Quinn's smile was a gloating one. Get ready to ride the wave, Rachel. Get ready. Because it's going to come just as fast as you.

(Break)

"Ummm…did you reply to my Tweet?"

Quinn held out her empty hands to Rachel in a placating gesture. "My phone is on the other side of the room."

Rachel was in an awful mood that morning. "I still can't figure this Twitter shit out. I don't know how I could possibly have missed that section – _all_ those parts, actually – of the contract. Using social media to promote the show…ha, my ass!" Rachel whipped her head up and leveled her gaze at Quinn. "They must have slipped in extra clauses – the really important ones – after I signed it!"

Quinn guided a visibly angry Rachel to the couch. "That's not entirely out of the realm of possibility."

Rachel scrolled furiously through her phone. "I only wanted to use this damn account to promote the show. But, oh no, not good enough! Ryan wanted me to add 'personal touches' to it." Rachel scowled. "Why does your name keep popping up in my timeline? And…Oh, sweet Lord, those comments!" Rachel thrust her phone at Quinn.

Quinn bit her lip, then the inside of her cheek, and then her tongue. She absolutely could not afford to laugh right now. But some of these replies were priceless.

**msrachelberry tweeted she was going to rise and grind. QuinnFabray must be with her. **

**Rise and grind = code for when msrachelberry "works out" with QuinnFabray.**

Rachel was near tears by the time Quinn tossed the phone back to her. Quinn's shrug was relaxed, apathetic. "Some people assume we are dating, Rachel."

"All I meant by that Tweet was that I'm getting ready to go to the gym," Rachel wailed. "Ryan is going to have another talk with me over this one, I can sense it!"

"You're being overdramatic," Quinn replied nonchalantly.

Rachel glared at Quinn. "They can't keep mentioning you like this, Quinn. Not connected to me."

Quinn played at bafflement. "Who are the 'they' in this equation?"

Rachel threw her phone at Quinn. "They! Them! The fans! _Everyone_!"

"Rachel, mostpeople probably suppose you're dating Chord. He plays the male lead. You're his love interest on the show. It makes for a great story. Fiction becoming fact. The fans eat that shit up."

Rachel wasn't mollified. "Ryan told me there are forums of you and me where people post pictures of us hugging."

Quinn let her face transform into one of total puzzlement. Even though she was very much aware of the sites that Rachel had just mentioned. And she had, after all, orchestrated each and every one of those very, very public hugs with Rachel. The one from the airport seemed a particular favorite on these forums that had so recently become a fixture of Rachel's life.

Rachel moved toward the bedroom. "I mean, since when can't you hug your friends? That's what I asked Ryan when he had his first 'talking to' with me. But he wants us to tone things down even more."

"We've had this discussion, darling. Yesterday, if I recall correctly," Quinn countered.

Rachel whirled around and stalked over to Quinn. "And as for you? You didn't help me any when you spoke to that reporter."

Quinn linked her hands around Rachel's back. "Rachel, I've explained this to you before. He caught me off guard. The guy more or less ambushed me right outside the studio! And all I said was that the rumors were funny and flattering and that you're beautiful."

Rachel rubbed her hands across her eyes. "Was it necessary for you to add the beautiful part?"

"You asked me, per Ryan's instructions, to keep my comments vague. I think I fully complied with your request. Besides, what's so wrong with complimenting your looks? Friends do that."

Rachel heaved her patented dramatic sigh. "I'm going to take a shower. Please find my phone for me. I expect that Ryan will call at some point in the _very_ near future."

Quinn eyed Rachel cautiously. "Next time, try not to hurl your phone at your girlfriend. Would that be something you could work on?"

Rachel's only response was the slamming of the bathroom door.

(Break)

The first thing Quinn noticed after locating Rachel's phone – it had ended up in the hallway, Rachel was a good throw – was that she had not signed out of her Twitter account. An idea swarmed into her mind. A grin broadened on Quinn's face. Listening to make sure she could still hear water running, Quinn sent a Tweet before logging-out.

**QuinnFabray I love you my lady. **

Quinn danced across her apartment, hopped up on the couch, and plopped down with a satisfied grunt of achievement.

Rachel's phone rang not two minutes later. It chimed out again one minute after that. And again and again until Rachel ran out of the bathroom to answer the call.

Quinn hovered over Rachel, acting concerned.

Rachel's voice picked up, carried over to hysteria. "No, Ryan, of course not! I'd never Tweet something to the equivalent of being in love with Quinn. It's much too…obvious. I must have been hacked!"

"That one you probably _can_ blame on a Faberry shipper," Quinn piped up.

Rachel shot her a dirty look before returning to her conversation. "Yes, I perfectly understand. Okay…give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there."

Rachel let the phone drop from her hand as she lowered herself to the floor.

"Guess you've got to change passwords. And fast, too." Quinn sat down by Rachel.

Rachel's voice was dazed, hushed. "Ryan wants to meet with me."

Quinn pulled Rachel to her feet. "That means you'd better get going. You're a contract girl now, Rachel Berry."

Rachel half-heartedly stood up and groped for her car keys.

Quinn called out to Rachel just as she opened the apartment door. "Hey, Rachel, you want a Xanax? It'll definitely calm you."

Rachel stopped, lingered on the stoop. Quinn crossed over to Rachel and kissed her. She slipped a pill into Rachel's hand.

Rachel blinked at her. "Can I have two? Just in case the meeting is exceptionally horrendous?"

(Break)

Quinn feared that Rachel's tears were never going to cease. She didn't think it was possible, but she kind of wished she was back at that coffee shop. Endlessly watching videos of Arthur Agron.

She rubbed her hand the length of Rachel's back. "Rachel, you're only gonna be twenty minutes away. And I'm sure that you'll be over here so often that it'll be like you never left. You can even keep a bunch of your stuff in my apartment."

Rachel's crying grew louder, sharper. "Listen to you! You're already referring to it as_ your_ apartment!"

Quinn suppressed a groan. "Well, grow a pair and tell Ryan you won't move out."

Rachel gripped Quinn's shirt. Rachel's eyes were blurry. Her face inflamed. "Quinn, they have _so much_ they can use against me: Sending Sunshine to a crack house, my suspension from when I tried to rig the class president election for Kurt, my other relationships with women…" Rachel paused and looked pointedly at Quinn: "My arrest for assault and destruction of property." Rachel snapped her fingers. "Gone! FOX took care of it. Poof, my record is spotless! I _cannot_ break the contract or they'll fuck me over."

Quinn allowed Rachel to snuggle closer against her. "Oh, Rachel, you need to concentrate on all the good that has come out of being on Glee: New fan base, singing _and _acting, the money."

As if Rachel hadn't heard her, she leaned further into Quinn and said, "I'm keeping the pills with me, Quinn. I might be moving out because Ryan Murphy doesn't think the public is going to buy our 'we are just roommates' story any longer…but you'll still have to come to me for the pills."

Quinn gritted her teeth but remained silent. She waited for Rachel to stop crying before she carried the girl toward the other side of the apartment, which Quinn was scant days away from reclaiming as solely her own.

Rachel locked her arms around Quinn's neck. "I don't think I can handle seven years of this, Quinn."

Quinn nudged her nose against Rachel's before depositing her on the bed. "As weird as the show is getting, I can't imagine it lasting more than, say, three seasons."

Rachel peered at her hopefully. "You think so?"

Quinn nodded empathetically. She honestly didn't give a fuck how long the show stayed on the air. The only thing that mattered was that Glee needed to take Rachel Berry down with it.

Quinn placed her head on a pillow and allowed Rachel to envelop her as they both went to sleep. Quinn's dreams that night were filled with the sound of waves breaking heavily on shore. And of Rachel's gasps as she struggled to breathe underwater. One of the swells - shaped eerily in the form of the letter G – blasted against Rachel until Quinn could see her no more.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I have changed the formatting between sections. Instead of (Break) it will now go in numerical order. Consider it a mark of sorts between "chapters" of the story. Please, please keep in mind that this story is so crazy that it has now passed over into the absurd. Also: I am a huge fan of Lea and Dianna. I mean no harm or insult. This story is all about having some fun. **

(1)

"_Please_ stop fucking with the remote." Quinn rammed the girl in her elbow. Shoved her slightly to Quinn's left so that she'd have a clearer view of the screen.

"Ouch, go easy," the girl hissed at Quinn. "Are we having sex or watching TV?"

"Both," Quinn replied curtly. She switched the channel to FOX.

Quinn glanced at the TV as she made short work of removing the girl's shirt. The character played by Rachel Berry stared silently back at her. She was currently serenading her love interest, Charlie Evans. But Quinn could hear nothing. This irritated her immensely.

Quinn unbuttoned the girl's jeans without taking her eyes away from Rachel. "How do you get this thing off mute?"

The girl looked at her sharply. "Is it really that important to you? Aren't I enough to keep you entertained?"

Kissing the girl pointedly on her neck, Quinn mumbled, "I like white noise when I'm having sex. Don't let it trouble you."

The girl jabbed at the remote before bending down. "It's that one right there."

Quinn hit the mute button, turned up the sound on Lea Michele, and once again directed her attention to the girl who had her head between Quinn's thighs.

(2)

"Why are you not at your apartment?"

Quinn could detect Rachel's weariness even through the phone. She willed her body and mind to wake at the same speed. She was overly groggy from being woken so abruptly by the buzzing of her phone. Quinn glanced around the room. She was alone. She could make out light rustling noises from down the hallway. The girl must be in the bathroom or something. Quinn whispered into the phone. "I'm on my date. It's on the schedule for tonight, remember?"

Rachel sounded frazzled. "Oh fuck, I thought that was tomorrow! What's his name and where did he take you?"

"_Her_ name is Heather and we kept it casual. We went out for pizza."

And, on those points, Quinn had told Rachel no lies. She'd met Heather at the dance studio almost a month ago. Quinn had watched with some amusement as Heather had tried to teach The Single Ladies dance to a couple of clueless guys in one of the modern dance classes. Quinn had been subtly flirting with the girl from that day forward. When Heather finally dumped her boyfriend because he couldn't get along with her best friend, Quinn zeroed in on her.

Heather had bluntly told Quinn that she wasn't _that_ into that. But Quinn wasn't one to quibble over such minor details. And Heather was a little too fixated on her best friend for Quinn to think the girl didn't have some experience with someone with the same plumbing as her. Heather talked about her best friend nearly constantly. Even during their date, it was Naya this and Naya that.

"Everybody thinks she's a bad person, but she's not." Heather pouted at Quinn.

Quinn's nod of sympathy had been one hundred percent sincere. "Yeah…that's what my best friend used to say about me." And with that statement, Quinn had unleashed the flood gates and out of Heather's mouth came pouring a stream of Naya stories. Quinn had allowed Heather to ramble on about Naya until she'd managed to get the girl home and undressed by the glow of Glee playing out in front of them on TV.

Now, Quinn was on that same couch but Heather was missing in action. Quinn leaned forward enough to peer down the hall.

She jumped back at the sound of Rachel's outraged voice. "This better be a joke, Quinn! You most certainly did _not_ go out with another _girl_!"

Listening for Heather's footsteps, Quinn said, "Rachel, I don't date men. The only guy I ever went out with was Finn…and you know how that story goes."

"But you told me! And you promised Ryan!" Rachel was seemingly having trouble formulating complete sentences.

Quinn tossed her clothes on as quietly as was possible given her current predicament. She heard a toilet flush and knew she was running dangerously short on time. "I gave you and Ryan my word that I would publicly date someone else. I never said that someone else would be a man."

Rachel's agitated tone battered at Quinn. "You know perfectly well that Ryan meant for you to date a guy. Get your ass home!"

Quinn slipped out the door and walked swiftly to her car. "Why does it _have_ to be me? _You're_ the number one draw to that show. Jesus, I'm not even on it!"

Rachel's voice rose higher in apparent indignation. "Because then you come across as a nice, wholesome straight girl who has zero interest in dating the female lead of FOX's number-one comedy! Furthermore, Ryan doesn't want to break the illusion that I _could be_ dating Chord in real life."

Quinn eased the car out of the parking spot. "Shouldn't that be enough? Can't it remain between your PR firm and Chord's? Why keep involving me?"

There was a pause from Rachel…followed by a drastic change in Rachel's tone and the flow of the conversation. "Your pills are still on the kitchen counter. Why did you not take them?"

Shit, huge misstep! Quinn banged her hand against the steering wheel in an act of frustration. She had been careless, forgetful. She'd not taken any pills that day. It was getting progressively easier for her to hold out during the daytime and only treat herself to the pills at night. But Quinn badly needed Rachel to believe in her addiction for a bit longer. Ryan was pressuring Rachel to sell her half of the studio to Quinn. Yet Rachel would consistently counter that she could do nothing of the sort, she'd be leaving Quinn in a precarious financial situation if she pulled out and left her dry. But the odds were gradually, haltingly turning in Quinn's favor.

None other than Dianna Agron had recently raved about the dance studio via a rather lengthy essay on her website. And, thanks to a role in a Spielberg movie, Dianna was making the kind of waves Rachel Berry could only manage to ride in her dreams. Dianna's words carried weight. She had referred to the studio as a "magick place I escape to when I hear that voice inside my head telling me to dance, dance, dance and recharge. I'm always a little sad when I have to leave that space, but I emerge from down that rabbit hole feeling rejuvenated and ready all over again to be kind and let love in."

Quinn had somewhat expected Dianna to upload a video of Arthur prancing around one of the dance rooms, but it (surprisingly) never came. Regardless, "Fabray's Studio is Magick" trended worldwide on Twitter for two days thanks to Dianna. Membership numbers were at a record high. Quinn was relatively confident that she could keep the business more than afloat once Glee washed Rachel out to sea.

And, for its part, Glee was playing its role to perfection. It kept dunking Rachel beneath the waves, but she had thus far resiliently resurfaced and trudged back to shore each time. Until that storm carried Rachel away in its wake, Quinn would do best to keep up the façade.

She lowered her voice an octave, tried to make her words quiver, and said, "I forgot to take them! You have me so fucking stressed out with all your Glee shit."

"_You're_ stressed out? Oh, that is rich! You know what? I'm taking these pills. Just…don't even bother coming to your apartment. Drive over to my place. Meet me there. I'll give you however many pills you want tonight to make up for pilfering these two from you. Okay?"

Quinn sighed and turned her car around at the next stoplight. She was too tired – or maybe too enthralled by Rachel's offer – to go against Rachel's request. She'd simply have to sustain this charade until that glorious day when Quinn Fabray became the lone and only proprietor of a magick dance studio in West Hollywood.

(3)

Quinn put her arm around Rachel and brought the other girl closer. She was anxious as to why Rachel wasn't already conked out. She'd taken the Xanax hours ago. But Rachel was still wide-awake and talkative. Very talkative. Quinn was full-out baffled.

Rachel was holding forth on her favorite subject: Glee. "And if the fans would calm down even a fraction. I'm not asking for a lot."

Quinn frowned into Rachel's hair before grabbing at the bait and indulging Rachel in a little Glee-talk. "I'm perplexed as to why Ryan has such an issue with you dating women. You're_ with_ one on the show."

Rachel rolled on top of Quinn, briefly taking Quinn's breath with her. "Oh my God, Quinn, how is this not easy for you to comprehend? Charlie…is…a…boy!"

"But the 'outrageous' twist was that Charlie is actually a girl, yes? What am I missing?" Quinn was, for the moment, reasonably interested in pursuing this line of questioning.

"You are missing the larger point! Ryan wants to play it as a gay relationship masked as a heterosexual one. He thinks it's revolutionary."

Quinn watched as Rachel's fingers made swooping, concentric patterns along her temples. "I'm siding with the fans, Rachel. It was weird and offensive to have Lea sing The Crying Game to Charlie. That was in poor taste."

Rachel instantly went on the defensive. It was eerie to witness the transformation. "I thought it was a completely legitimate way for Lea to express her feelings of confusion upon hearing Charlie's confession." Rachel spoke as if addressing a reporter. "The song also provided for a nice summary of Lea's continued attraction to her…him. Damn it! I meant _him_."

Quinn cupped Rachel's chin in her hand so that she could meet Rachel eye to eye. "Him or her, Rachel, which one? It can't be both, you know."

Rachel spoke through gritted teeth. "Charlie is a girl _with a penis_. The other characters still _think _she's a boy, boy. Charlie has only told me the truth!"

"Okay…so…why not let Lea and Charlie kiss on-screen anymore? You can understand why the fans are angry. You and Chord used to kiss _in every scene_ before the big disclosure. It's gone from making out all the time to nothing but secret glances and hugs."

Rachel fidgeted around in the bed. "But we've implied that _so much_ is going on between them! We've hinted to the audience that we take baths together, for the love of God! I mean, hello! I feel Charlie and Lea have just done as much as we have before the revelation, to be honest with you."

Quinn scowled at Rachel. "How much, again, are they paying you for this bullshit?"

Rachel slapped Quinn lightly on the arm. "Money is the furthest thing from my mind. This storyline? It's controversial…and a very touchy subject. But it will deliver, I can guarantee it. I trust Ryan's instincts. And I agree with him: It's best to tread especially lightly with this delicate of an issue."

Quinn laughed as she maneuvered Rachel exactly where she wanted her. "Delicate? The whole damn thing is about a hundred leagues out to sea and moving straight in the direction of fucked-up." Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Quinn stopped her with the effort of her hips thrusting against Rachel. "Enough about Glee. Can we hurry up and get to all that sex we're about to have? Or is there some secret you're hiding from me, Rachel Berry? Could you, perhaps, be a boy?"

Rachel giggled as she attempted to swat Quinn away from tickling down past her stomach. "Stop joking about the storyline! I mean it!" Rachel grasped Quinn's hands tightly as she pushed against her. They locked eyes. Things were suddenly much more to Quinn's taste. Rachel gave her a mischievous wink as she lowered her mouth to meet Quinn. "But…if I had a penis, I want you to know that it would be massive, Quinn Fabray. Massive!"

Quinn chuckled softly as she lazily matched Rachel's rhythm. "Maybe so, maybe so. But you're always gonna be a bottom, Rachel. Never forget." And to drive home her point, Quinn quickly flipped Rachel over and pinned her down on the bed.

(4)

Quinn was on the cusp of sleep when Rachel's exhausted voice pulled her back from the ledge. She'd spent hours illustrating to Rachel just how much of a bottom the girl truly was…and Rachel _still _couldn't sleep?

Rachel's words carried out to her in the dark. "Remember that episode where the Glee club films a TV commercial for a novelty store?"

Quinn turned toward Rachel. "Ummm…I think so."

"It had that ridiculous montage where we bounced around on pogo sticks to Van Halen's Jump."

Quinn nodded against Rachel. "Yeah, you had bruises on your legs for weeks."

"Ryan wants us to perform that song during the tour. _On _the pogo sticks!"

Quinn snapped her mouth shut to halt the laughter that had bubbled up in her throat. She went with a neutral tone when she was finally able to speak again. "That's gonna look…awkward on stage."

Rachel sat up and tossed the sheet off her body. "So, now, on top of rehearsing, recording, and filming…we have to go through extensive pogo stick training beginning next week!"

Quinn reached for Rachel, endeavored to get her back to a prone position. "Keep the bright side in mind, Rachel, because all that practice will make your thighs even more fuck worthy."

Rachel snaked out of her grip. "Forget fucking, I'll barely be able to walk when this tour is over!"

Quinn sniggered. "I've seen you unable to walk. Hell, I've _made _you that way. They really ought to market _that _look."

Rachel stood up violently and stalked across the room. "You're being insufferable! I'm sleeping on the couch!"

Quinn rolled her eyes at Rachel's retreating form. Covering her face with the comforter to mask her laughter, Quinn tried her hardest to picture Rachel Berry on a pogo stick. In front of thousands of people. Singing Van Halen's Jump. But it was much too absurd for her imagination to conjure…so she fell asleep instead.

(5)

"Jenchel?"

Quinn stretched and tossed her book aside. It was awards season, which meant Quinn had many Rachel-free evenings at her disposal. She'd started a couple of books. Couldn't sustain much interest in them. Tried her hand at baking. Gave up after one half-hearted attempt. Strangely, she always found herself back on the couch, watching red carpet footage in anticipation of catching a glimpse of the girl now waiting on her to respond. Quinn sighed. "I'm the first to confess that Jenchel doesn't flow from the tongue as nicely as Faberry, but shipper names are such strange beasts."

Rachel plopped down beside her with a frantic expression covering her face. "Great. Really, really top rate. People shipping me with Jenna. All because of that stupid Billy Bush!"

Quinn risked a glance at Rachel's iPad and the site that was so captivating Rachel's attention. "Admit it, Rachel, that was an oddly intimate display of affection. And not getting to the interview on time? What was with that?"

Rachel narrowed her gaze at Quinn. "We saw Claire Danes in the ladies room! We were giddy and star struck, so we ended up a few minutes late to the interview. Why, why, why should that have been such a problem?" Rachel's look was a pleading one. It was as if she believed that Quinn alone possessed all the answers.

Quinn eyed Rachel curiously. "Um…maybe because you were all over each other backstage? Even I thought there was something more to it. She leered at your breasts like they were seriously the only things in the room. Like they were a fucking set of spotlights that had totally blindsided her." Quinn leaned further back on the couch. "If I were still in high school and making bets with Puck, I totally would've put money on you and Jenna having sex later that night."

Rachel hiccupped with laughter. "People are just so crazy the way that they spin things. It's so funny!"

Quinn shrugged. "You should be thrilled they're associating you with someone other than me. That's what I'm taking out of it."

"Not when it's with _another _girl, fuckface!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Rachel. "Where did you pick up _that _little term of endearment?"

"Jenna!"

Quinn smacked a hand down on her thigh. "Well, there you have it! You're already adopting her pet phrases. I won't lie to you, Rachel, I'm starting to ship Jenchel, too."

Rachel pounded on Quinn's chest with her feet. "You're being entirely unhelpful!"

Quinn endured the kicking. "I'm in no position to help you. Follow Ryan's party line: You both had been 'celebrating' and were 'really excited' by the 'enormity of the moment,' which I think is a fancy way of saying you were drunk." Quinn rubbed the length of Rachel's calf muscle. "You've been drinking a lot lately, I've noticed. You're about to go overboard with it."

Rachel hit at Quinn one more time. She reached for her drink. "If you had my life, you'd understand the necessity of alcohol. Trust me."

Quinn trusted her all right. Trusted her enough to have Rachel mix them both another cocktail. And a third one after that.

(6)

"Chord wanted to have a baby with me."

"I've no doubt," Quinn commented dryly.

Rachel was drunk again. Second night in a row that very week. Quinn was bored of how obnoxious and needy Rachel became when she was in this state. The first few times were fun for Quinn because drunk Rachel liked to get off hard and fast. Redundancy had set in quicker than Quinn had expected. But there was no getting rid of Rachel tonight.

Rachel pushed her phone so far in Quinn's face that she couldn't make out what Rachel was trying to show her. "No, no…not like that!" Rachel paused, swayed while standing stock still. "But, anyway, I told him that the only person I'd even conceive of having a child with was_ you_." Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck.

Quinn wrestled against Rachel. The girl was clinging too tightly to her. "I don't like it when you come home drunk."

"Please get closer to me, Quinn, and let me take your picture," Rachel wailed. "There's this iPhone app I want us to try!"

Rachel held out her phone to Quinn once more. Quinn squinted at the display. "Build a Baby? What would be the point in this, Rachel?"

Rachel all but squealed, "So we can see how adorable and amazing our kid would look!"

Quinn scrolled through the app. "Will I be playing the role of mom or dad in this sorry-ass production that you're so intent…"

Rachel snatched the phone and snapped Quinn's picture before she could finish her sentence. "Dad, silly, as if I'd _ever _be anything other than a mother. Get real, Quinn." Rachel flipped her phone around and mugged for the camera.

Quinn was hypnotized by Rachel's drunken efforts at spawning their hypothetical Internet love child. Rachel snorted with laughter. Fell to the floor in hysterics. Pointed for Quinn to pick up her phone. "Ah, God, look at that thing, Quinn!"

Quinn bent down for Rachel's phone, but she stopped mid-way. "Wow! That looks all kinds of crazy. I thought it would turn out better than that." She was mildly offended.

Rachel was struggling to catch her breath as she fumbled for the phone. "I'm gonna send this hot mess to Chord…show him how real men make a baby."

Quinn had no desire to decipher that statement. Frankly, she was annoyed and achy with fatigue. Drunk Rachel also enjoyed staying up late in to the night. Quinn wasn't ready for another such unpleasant experience. She was definitely going to need a pill. Or three. She was in the kitchen when Rachel came bouncing up beside her.

"Oh, shit! Oh, damn! Oh, fuck me until Hanukkah!" Rachel was in absolute flustered mode. "I forgot to uncheck the box! I didn't uncheck the box!"

Quinn placed her hands firmly on Rachel's shoulders. "Calmly – do not yell! – explain to me what you mean about a box."

Rachel shifted from one foot to the other in a weird, manic dance. "The box! The box! You uncheck it if you don't want the results sent to your Twitter feed!"

Realization dawned like a beautiful sunrise in Quinn's mind. She'd have to angle this one very, very carefully. "Delete it and maybe no one will notice. Delete it, Rachel!" Quinn aimed to mimic Rachel's panic…but she knew she was probably falling painfully short.

"It's too late," Rachel said mournfully. She placed her phone in Quinn's hand. Pretending reluctance, Quinn ran her eyes across Rachel's Twitter feed.

**Let's congratulate msrachelberry and QuinnFabray on their new bundle of joy! **

**They had a Fababy! OMG! LOL! Just kill me now!**

**PROVES THAT QUINNFABRAY IS A TOP!**

**Can you just confirm that you are having QuinnFabray's baby?**

And a particular gem from one LimaLopez: **Funny…I just had a nightmare about the same thing.**

Tossing the phone on the counter, Quinn faced a quickly sobering Rachel. "Who's the fuckface now?"

(7)

"How do you spell that guy's last name again?"

Rachel enunciated slowly. "P-e-t-t-y-f-e-r."

Quinn did a fast Google search. She furrowed her brow at the results. "Let me right out of the gate say that I'm glad it's you and not me."

Rachel shut her eyes and downed a second Vicodin. The aftermath of the Golden Globes had been nothing compared to Ryan's wrath after the Build a Baby debacle. He'd decided: It was time for Rachel to get a boyfriend. Quinn wasn't sure she should choose this exact point in time to address Rachel's increasing dependency on Vicodin for her frequent headaches. But…

"Rachel, ease it with the Vicodin. It's not meant for minor aches and pains."

Rachel nodded. "Uh-huh, right, I'm on it. Hey, Quinn, did you know that our baby has its own Tumblr tag?"

Quinn did not know that. But, okay, sure…that made total sense.

Rachel sat up and smiled broadly at Quinn. "I've been doing some planning. And I think I have an excellent way around this baby stuff. I already sense that you will find my solution both brilliant and inspired. Best part: We'll be able to stay together even if I am dating Alex!"

Quinn's heart stalled out on her.

Rachel tapped her fingers on Quinn's knee in excitement. "I've even cleared it with Ryan. He _adores_ the idea. It pretty much encapsulates the whole premise of our show: First love, high school romance, never giving up on the person you want."

Quinn was lost. She absentmindedly groped for the bottle of pills on the coffee table. "What are you even talking about, Rachel?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you getting back together with Finn Hudson!"


	4. Chapter 4

(1)

Rachel was naked. And that meant that Quinn wanted to get naked, too. She likened it to a chemical reaction. Or a craving of sorts. Rachel Berry was like nicotine and that made Quinn Fabray a two-pack a day smoker. Her hands fidgeted just watching Rachel crawl on the bed. She itched to get her fingers all over that girl.

This was clearly an invitation. Quinn could view it from no other prism. Her body heated up – damn near burnt her alive – at the sight of Rachel. She unbuttoned her pants and took a cautious but sure step closer to the bed. There'd been no sex – no sex! – in her life for two weeks. But maybe Rachel was finally willing to believe her. And allow them to move on by moving against each other.

During this fortnight from the seventh circle of hell, Rachel had developed the annoying habit of wearing a towel out of the bathroom when she'd finished showering. Or she'd emerge completely dressed. But now? She was still naked! She was on the bed! Rachel might as well have handed Quinn a match from which to light up the cigarette that would fuel her addiction.

Quinn practically ripped off her pants and was preparing to lunge at Rachel when the other girl glanced at her, rolled over on her side, and started crying. Again. For maybe the fiftieth time since this whole ordeal started. Quinn's body deflated and she sank down beside Rachel with a weary sigh.

Rachel turned to face Quinn. "And that smug look she gave me right before we filmed the Flan for Two segment! Like it was her silent way of reminding me that she knows what you look like without your clothes!"

It was blatantly, unjustly unfair that Rachel was blessed with that body and she wasn't letting Quinn touch her due to some stupid misunderstanding. Quinn chanced it. She spooned Rachel and rattled off the same story she'd been feeding Rachel for weeks. "She's lying, Rachel. We only went out for pizza."

Rachel scooted closer to Quinn. "You don't know how hard this has been for me. Her spreading rumors that she slept with you. Ryan stepping in to stop them by offering her a role on Glee. I have to see her every day, Quinn! Every day!" Rachel turned on the waterworks full force.

But Quinn wasn't concentrating on that. She was holding a naked Rachel. Her body felt engulfed, drenched in lighter fluid that Rachel had set on fire. She could perhaps, maybe (probably?) get something going with Rachel. Comfort sex! Yes, that could be her angle. She ran her fingers through Rachel's damp hair and cooed into her ear. "I'm sorry that this is so bad for you. And I _hate _Heather for trying to cause problems. But…it'll get better. And I miss you. Stop being mad at me, okay?"

Rachel stretched and pointed her toes toward the edge of the bed. God speed to the inventor of the pogo stick. Rachel's thighs were the absolute best that Quinn had ever seen them. She had to, had to, had to make this work for her. She glided a trembling finger across Rachel's thigh, but Rachel swiped Quinn's hand away.

Groaning in defeat and (more to the point) intense disappointment, Quinn faced away from Rachel. Blocked again! Plus, to make matters worse, her mind chose that moment to focus on the studio. She was sure she'd been mere days away from convincing Rachel that it was best to give in to the inevitable: She needed to sign over her half of the studio to Quinn. But as soon as Rachel had found out about Heather, she'd staunchly refused to even broach the subject. Quinn sensed this was a journey she'd have to start all over again. But, this time, the destination was far less certain.

When Quinn was able to look over at Rachel again without spontaneously combusting, the first thing she noticed was that Rachel had rested one hand at the bottom edge of her stomach…so damn close to where Quinn wanted to touch. In what she hoped would pass as a soothing gesture, Quinn put her hand on top of Rachel's. She let her index finger dip the slightest bit lower. Her body was on the edge of a meltdown and only Rachel could calm it.

As if reading her mind, Rachel dropped their joined hands to – yes! – exactly where Quinn wanted them. She had the insane urge to break into song, especially when Rachel casually moved her own hand, leaving only Quinn's in its place. Thank God! She was right there! Finally there! She didn't hesitate. Quinn inched a finger across Rachel's clit and damn near fainted when Rachel keened below her with a strangled whimper.

But that was all she got out of Rachel. She stilled Quinn's hand and gazed at her harshly. "This is about you having sex with me, isn't it?"

Quinn tried to wiggle her fingers against Rachel, but the other girl had her in a death grip. Trying valiantly not to scream, Quinn said, "This is about us communicating with each other again. Only in the physical sense. You know?" Quinn nodded at Rachel. "The sex will bring us closer."

Continuing to hold Quinn's hand hostage, Rachel smiled at her. "Is that so? You really think?" Rachel maneuvered Quinn's fingers down the length of her and, oh God, Rachel was so wet that Quinn's hand came away dripping.

Quinn moaned and clambered half-way on top of Rachel before she pushed her back down. Quinn very nearly screamed. "Jesus, Rachel, what gives? I don't like the mixed signals game."

Speaking as if she wasn't naked and clearly about to soak through the sheets, Rachel nonchalantly replied, "I require a firm answer from you with regard to this Finn situation…or I will happily buy you a vibrator to satisfy your increasingly demanding sexual appetite."

Quinn froze and Rachel took advantage by wrapping her legs around her. Rachel was being unnecessarily cruel. Now she was spreading her wetness along the length of Quinn's thighs. All the while keeping an image of Finn fucking Hudson in Quinn's mind. Rachel had promised Quinn that she'd only have to go out with Finn a few times. And Finn was willing. Rachel told her that he'd been tooling around Burt's tire shop and was more than happy to escape the drudgery for a while.

Quinn shut her eyes tightly and attempted to block out the sound of Rachel's soft moaning as she rocked slowly but purposefully against her. Through clenched teeth, Quinn managed to speak. "If I agree to it, Rachel, can we put this behind us? All the crap about Heather?"

Rachel beamed down at her. "Mostly. I'll forgive you ninety percent. And we'll think of something later to get you fully to one hundred." Rachel pushed faster and with more purpose. She lifted the edges of Quinn's shirt.

Quinn was suddenly dizzy with lust and anticipation. "Fine. You bet. Bring Finn Hudson to me."

Quinn's shirt was almost off her body when Rachel's phone dinged from across the room. Rachel dropped her hands. "Oh! It's time for me to send out my daily Glee Tweet." Rachel eyed the bedside clock and sprinted off Quinn and out of bed. "Fuck! I'm gonna be late for Alex's movie premiere!" Glaring accusatorily at Quinn, Rachel's next remark was biting. "You distracted me. Grab my phone and Tweet something Glee-related for me. I need to get dressed and back over to my place before my make-up team arrives."

Quinn couldn't have felt worse if Rachel had just punched her in the face and told her she was now under contract with FOX studios. She was disheartened, irritated, unquenched. She'd just agreed to date Finn Hudson and Rachel was still withholding sex from her. Fuck it all! Stomping across the room, Quinn couldn't hide her irritation. "And what, exactly, would you have me Tweet?"

"I don't know! Think of something." Rachel was preoccupied. By something other than her being fucked by Quinn. She called out to Quinn from the bathroom. "There's a Glee marathon on Oxygen. Find out what episode is playing and Tweet about that."

Mimicking Rachel's voice under her breath, Quinn punched at the TV remote until she found the carbon copy of Rachel Berry singing to her from the screen. Lea was belting out Don't Rain on My Parade.

But Quinn was much more intrigued with the glimpse of Rachel she saw reflected to her from the bathroom mirror. Ah, look at her fucking ass! Quinn could endure it no longer. Barely glancing at the phone, Quinn typed out paaarraaaaaadddeee, hit the Tweet button, and dashed across the room.

Quinn wouldn't be greedy. She'd be quick. But Rachel wasn't leaving this apartment until she'd allowed Quinn to extinguish those flames that were burning her body alive.

(2)

"That Tweet you sent the other day wasn't the wisest of choices."

Quinn uncovered her eyes and focused on Rachel. It was too, too early in the morning for conversation. "How come?"

Rachel gave her a pointed stare. "Is someone forgetting about my stalker?"

Oh, yeah, the stalker! And Quinn guessed that was the correct term…in the broadest sense of the word. Someone kept leaving Rachel notes with the words Here I Am type-written in a bold, rather forceful font on an otherwise blank business card. The stalker had left one in Rachel's mailbox. Another in the parking attendant's booth at the Paramount lot where Glee filmed. And a third Quinn had found yesterday morning. It had been taped to the main door of the dance studio.

Rachel continued, "In the future, please refrain from mentioning Don't Rain on My Parade. You'll only give this person more ammunition."

Quinn buried herself under the covers again. "In the future, Tweet things for yourself. I'm not on the payroll."

Rachel snatched the blanket from Quinn and snapped her fingers in Quinn's face. "And don't forget about your date with Finn tonight. The prom episode airs next week and I need those public sightings of you two so that I can reference you to the press."

"This will never work, Rachel. I guarantee it."

Rachel huffed as she zipped her pants and reached for her sweater. "Of course it will. Ryan wants me to promote the episode by talking about my prom experience. And how I wished that I'd had one like yours. Your date was the high school stud – someone a lot like Charlie – and you told me at the time how happy you were that Finn was yours and you'd never wanted anything more in your life."

Quinn waved her hands at Rachel. "Let me stop you. That's not how it happened, though. I went to the prom by myself. And I spent a great deal of my time dancing with you."

Rachel adopted her best "I'm speaking to an idiot" tone. "No, your date was Finn. And Ryan wants to use your reignited romance with Finn to show parallels to Lea's relationship with Charlie. Because, at the end of the prom, it appears as if Charlie and Lea are no longer together. We want to reassure the audience that not all is lost between them. True love will find a way…just like with you and Finn!"

Quinn needed a Vicodin. She already had a raging headache. "Remind me, please, why are you and Charlie no longer the golden couple when prom is over?"

Rachel stomped her foot and whipped around to face Quinn. "I wish, Quinn, that Glee meant at least a little something to you. To clue you in – again! – Lea accidentally outs Charlie on Flan for Two. Consequently, Charlie gets voted in as prom queen, runs out of the auditorium, and slaps Lea when she follows after him."

"Dramatic," Quinn mumbled under her breath.

Rachel threw a hairbrush at her. "It's all part of the revolutionary statement Ryan intends to make!"

"I wish he'd speed it up a little bit."

Rachel pounded her foot down on the ground for a second time. "I don't have the energy to keep having the same discussion with you over and over! I have to be on location in half an hour so they can put that stupid panda suit on me again."

Faking seriousness, Quinn inquired, "How's that scene coming along?"

"How do you think, Quinn? Three days I've been trapped inside a panda suit. Three days! All because Ryan finally got the rights to the Guns N' Roses catalogue for a tribute episode."

Quinn yawned, yanked the covers back over her, and followed Rachel's movements around the bedroom. "But there aren't really many pandas in tropical areas. Couldn't you be a, I don't know, monkey or something? That would work better for Welcome to the Jungle."

Rachel threw up her arms in exasperation. "It's a way to sell songs. It doesn't have to fit within the plot!"

Again holding off on laughing, Quinn asked, "Those guys still hanging around the lot?"

She knew this was going to set Rachel's nerves on edge. When on-set pictures leaked of Rachel in that ridiculous get-up, a group of men showed up outside the studio the next day in exact replicas. Dubbed the Plump and Plushy Pandas, they'd insinuated that they'd love nothing more than to have sex with Rachel while she was wearing the panda suit. Rachel was fully terrified by these men. And Quinn found the whole thing beyond hilarious.

Giving Quinn a long, hateful stare, Rachel left the bedroom without another word. Quinn waited until Rachel slammed the front door before she burst into hysterical laughter. She didn't sober up completely until much later in the day when she received a text that both scared and thrilled her.

(3)

"You texted that we needed to have a conversation about Brittany. So…speak. What's the issue?"

Santana took a deep breath and promptly closed her mouth. Quinn hadn't heard from Santana or Brittany in almost a year. Santana's peculiar behavior set Quinn on edge. What if there was something wrong with Brittany? Quinn steadied her nerves and pinned her eyes on Santana. "Is Brittany all right?" Santana dropped her gaze and played with the napkin in her lap. Quinn grabbed Santana's hand, gripped it hard until the other girl winced. "You need to say something to me, Santana, or I'm leaving. What's the matter with Brittany?"

Santana jerked her hand away and rolled her eyes. "Nothing! Nothing! She's fine. I lied. This is about me, not Brittany."

Quinn stood up. Fuck this, she was tired of women manipulating her. She moved past Santana, who reached out and pulled her closer. "Please, Quinn, I need a favor. Grant me this one request and I'll owe you, I swear!"

And, really, how could Quinn resist a begging Santana Lopez? It was too rare an occurrence. And, possibly, too big of an opportunity. She sat back down and motioned for Santana to hurry up and get to the point.

Speaking quickly so as not to lose her nerve, Santana said, "I want you to help me get an audition for Glee."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at Santana. "Why don't you ask Rachel for a meeting with Ryan?"

Santana leaned forward. "I know that you don't speak to anyone in Lima, including your parents, apparently. And you live in this weird bubble where the only things that exist are Rachel and your dance studio…but there's a lot you don't know about Lima." Santana crossed her arms and sat back in her chair.

Quinn wasn't much interested in the happenings of Lima. But she suspected she was about to get all caught up. "Such as?"

"Me and Britt-Britt never knew Rachel, for starters."

Quinn stopped crunching on a cube of ice. She tilted her head questionably at Santana. "I'm not following you."

Santana laughed. "God, Rachel doesn't tell you anything, does she? And you don't care enough to know!"

Quinn was ready to admit that she was beyond confused and had moved to the realm of totally fucking clueless. All she could manage was a short shrug of her shoulders.

"FOX pretty much owns Lima. They've funneled a lot of money into the town. They're even thinking of putting up a Glee-themed amusement park right outside Lima."

Quinn couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. "That's insane!" Pausing to gather her thoughts, Quinn closed her eyes. Nothing was making sense. Maybe she was dreaming. "But…how does that have anything to do with you and Brittany supposedly not knowing Rachel?"

Santana suddenly seemed angry. "Ryan can't have word leak that his darling star was close friends with two lesbians while she was in high school! That would be too much…especially when added to the rumors about you and Rachel."

Quinn could only stare at Santana, mouth agape once more. "Wait! Wait! Then why in the fuck would you want a role on Glee? And wouldn't you have to pretend you aren't with Brittany?" Quinn popped a Vicodin into her mouth. Her head was throbbing mercilessly.

Santana's smug lit up her entire face. "Nope. I've read the spoilers and I want to audition for the role of Heather's love interest. I seriously doubt they'll have a problem with a lesbian playing the part of a lesbian. It'll make for excellent publicity."

Quinn scowled. It made her face hurt. "But why, Santana? Why Glee? You're almost finished with law school!"

"I'm sick of mucking around in law school when I can be famous! If Rachel Berry can do it, so the fuck can I!"

Quinn took a second Vicodin. Her fucking brain felt like it was melting. "People will find out that you know Rachel. Someone in Lima is bound to sell that information the first chance they get!"

Santana chuckled loudly. "Not likely! No one wants to jeopardize pissing off FOX. Even my parents are on their payroll! All people have to do is pretend that Rachel grew up in Lima the way that FOX says it happened. No need to let reality get in the way of a great story. And it's good money, Quinn. Nobody will risk losing out on it. Also, I wasn't born in Lima. According to FOX, I was born and raised right here in LA."

Quinn opened her mouth, found that words wouldn't come, closed it. Thought seriously about taking a Xanax. Wanted to fall down that magick rabbit hole that Dianna Agron liked to mention. Never wanted to emerge.

Santana tapped her on the arm. "Willing to help me or not? I'll do something nice for you…if you agree to this."

Quinn blinked at Santana. This was tempting. Very much so. She could ask that Santana facilitate a reconciliation between Quinn and Brittany. Instead…

"If you get the part…you have to help me persuade Rachel to sell her half of the studio to me."

"Done!" Santana grinned at Quinn.

They shook on it. Santana bought Quinn a celebratory drink. They toasted to the future, which was suddenly a lot brighter in Quinn's mind. Even if that meant Santana Lopez was once again in her life.

(4)

Her conversation with Santana had run long. And Quinn had almost been late. But she finally had everything set up in her office. She'd swiped her assistant's laptop for this occasion. And she was also employing the use of her own iPad and her work computer. Three wide-eyed Rachels squinted at her on each of the monitors. Quinn smiled, she couldn't help it. Rachel looked like a frightened Meerkat. Quinn patiently waited for Rachel to realize that she was supposed to be answering questions right about now.

Because Quinn's three temporary personas were ready for the barrage. Her first, which Quinn thought of as Very Intense and Devoted Fangirl, was probably going to prove the hardest for her to pull off. The second, the You're Fooling No One Fangirl, would be easy. She'd added the third on a whim – The I Really Want to Annoy You Fangirl.

She watched as Rachel picked up her phone. Why the fuck was she calling someone right now? Quinn's phone rang out.

Rachel's voice echoed to her from four directions. "Quinn! Hey Quinn, I don't think anyone can see me."

Quinn could barely control her giggles enough to respond. "I think you might want to reconsider that line of reasoning. I can see you…and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume I'm not alone."

Rachel squinted at the camera. "Oh! Okay, ha, ha!" She hung up the phone on Quinn and bent closer to her computer.

As soon as she'd ended the call, Quinn allowed You're Fooling No One Fangirl to send Rachel a message: The first thing you say on the chat is Quinn's name? And you call her for help? I bet she's probably downstairs right now. Isn't she?

Rachel's eyes scrolled furiously across her screen. A blush crept across her cheeks. "Let's see…say hello to Amy in Buffalo." Rachel grinned. "Hi, Amy in Buffalo, hope you're having a great day!"

Quinn typed as Very Intense and Devoted Fangirl for a while: I'm soooooooooooo sad that you're not with Quinn anymore. Alex is such a douche! You're breaking my Faberry heart!

The color of Rachel's cheeks grew an even darker shade of red. She narrowed her eyes. "Um…yeah! We really love New York. I used to live there and, you know, we just like it a lot."

Quinn let You're Fooling No One Fangirl take that one: And by WE…you mean you and QUINN FABRAY!

Quinn switched over to The I Really Want to Annoy You Fangirl mode: There's a picture of a cat behind you. Is that your way of letting us know how much you like pussy?

Rachel laughed a little and fidgeted in her seat. "Let's see…say hello to Brian in Brazil." Rachel waved. "Hi, Brian in Brazil. I hope to visit your country one day. We've talked about going to Brazil over the summer."

Exasperated, Quinn sent Rachel a text: Stop saying hello to everyone. You're not a game show contestant. Answer questions!

Rachel peered down at her phone and hurriedly back up to the computer. "Let's see…stop looking at yourself. Look at the camera when you speak. Ha, ha! I'm not looking at myself. A friend, my friend, is texting me and…uh… sort of coaching me through this. But not Quinn! Another friend! Finn, actually. He's Quinn's boyfriend." Rachel peeked up at the camera with a small pout. "I'm so bad with technology!"

Quinn balked. God, she hated even the mention of that boy's name. She turned her attention back to Rachel and forgot about Finn for a little while longer.

Rachel was trying her best to address the camera directly. "Let's see…uh…I apologize! These questions are just coming so fast!"

I Really Want to Annoy You Fangirl responded with a "that's what she said."

"Let's see…no, sorry, I've not seen that movie." Rachel shrugged apologetically.

Quinn gave up. Rachel was being too vague. What movie hadn't she seen? It was time for a break. Quinn left her office to raid her stash of pills in the storage closet. She'd already gone through the daily amount Rachel had given her that morning. Walking down the hallway, she stopped at the sight of Dianna Agron. Sitting in an empty classroom. Her knees bent up and arms cradling her laptop.

Dianna looked somewhere between listless and despondent. Quinn glanced at her watch. Dianna's class had ended over an hour ago. Why the hell was she still here? Quinn advanced toward Dianna. "Hey there, everything okay?"

Dianna had tears in her eyes. "She hasn't seen my movie."

Quinn frowned down at Dianna. "Who hasn't?"

Dianna acted as if Quinn hadn't just asked her a question. "I've watched every episode of Glee, like, 250 times."

Gears started turning for Quinn. Bits of the puzzle emerged clearer and more sharply inside her brain.

Dianna kept speaking, "I only promoted this stupid studio because Rachel is part-owner!" Dianna stood up and stalked toward Quinn. She raised her shirt and Quinn flinched. What the fuck was happening? Jesus save her! Dianna shrieked at her. "Look! I added a line to my tattoo when I heard Rachel sing Don't Rain on My Parade. That's how much it moved me!"

Quinn was powerless not to blatantly stare at Dianna's ribcage and the words Here I Am tattooed there. The clues swirled rapidly in her mind. The pieces seamlessly stitched together. The story added up.

Rachel was right all along. She really did have a stalker.


	5. Chapter 5

(1)

"Mom…uh…Lea…wait! Don't go in there!"

Quinn scanned for Lea's next line but was distracted by the flickering of the TV. She concentrated on the screen as flashes from cameras caused Jenna to flinch as she waved to the fans lined up along the red carpet.

Santana threw an empty water bottle at Quinn. "Hey, remember me? The girl you're helping run lines? Could we get back to that now? I'm going to lose you when Rachel arrives…so try not to waste any more time."

Quinn traced her fingers across the page and read, "But Charlie is waiting for me. He said it was important."

Santana wrung her fingers together in agitation. "But…I _need _to talk to you first."

Quinn tossed the script on the coffee table. "I think you've got your lines down, Santana."

Santana glared at Quinn. "You promised to help me. Ryan keeps changing the scene and I'm having trouble keeping the dialogue straight. If I fuck this up…I might as well wave a sad goodbye to my role on Glee."

With a groan, Quinn picked up the script and searched it until she found where she'd left off. "Whatever you have to say to me will have to wait. Charlie is the most important person in my life. I'd be nothing without him."

Santana closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead. "Fuck! I _always_ forget the next line…and it's the most crucial part."

Quinn read the line for Santana: "Lea, you have to believe me! What I have to tell you is more important…" Quinn trailed off in the hope that Santana would pick up the dialogue.

"Oh, right!" Santana smiled. "What I have to tell you is more important…I know this is going to sound strange…but I'm your adopted daughter. I've come back from the future to stop you from going into the pool."

Quinn glanced at the TV as another limo pulled up to the curb. But Rachel wasn't inside that one either, so she focused on Santana again. "How is your ear? Brittany convince you to see a doctor?"

"My ear is fine," Santana responded curtly. "I think Rachel enjoys torturing me. I don't buy her 'I'm very stressed out and am sorry that I keep missing my cues' bullshit. She just wants to see me dive into that pool over and over again."

"She's been pretty tense lately." Quinn reached for her drink before turning back to Santana.

"It's one fucking line, Quinn! I jump into the pool to stop Charlie from proposing and Rachel says, 'I don't believe in time travel.' How hard is that?"

Quinn moved a lock of Santana's hair out of the way so she could get a better view of the girl's swollen ear. "That…looks awful."

Santana batted Quinn's hand away. "Yeah, well, you try getting attacked by a fucking swan."

Quinn nodded sympathetically. "Do you think it was the lasers that set it off?"

Sighing, Santana said, "I don't know! Maybe. I don't fucking care, honestly. I wish Ryan would scrap the scene. How ridiculous is it to have Charlie propose in the pool while lasers shoot out of fucking nowhere and swans swim around him?"

"I suppose there will be some in the audience who find that romantic. Charlie took Lea to play laser tag on their first date and swans are her favorite animal. Charlie is on to something, I guess. It shows he pays attention to Lea." Quinn tried not to stare at Santana's ear. Who knew swans could be so vicious?

Santana absentmindedly touched her ear and winced. "But…he doesn't really listen to her! That's the whole point of my character coming back from the future. Lea is terrified of water…and she reminds Charlie of that all the time. Yet he chooses to propose to her _in water_!"

Quinn flipped to the back of the script. "So…why does she say yes?"

"How should I know! All I care about is that my character has to stop the proposal. Because, twenty years into their marriage, Lea decides that she should've said no. Charlie shouldn't have made her get anywhere near that pool. She was blinded by her love for him." Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn.

Nodding again, Quinn sketched out the rest of the plot. "Enter adopted daughter who comes from the future to stop the proposal that eventually wrecks her parent's marriage."

"Exactly!" Santana pulled out her phone. "Hold that thought…I have to Tweet."

Quinn watched for Rachel to appear on screen. It was the night of the premiere of the Glee concert movie, which was being broadcast live on E! The network also had a crew in place in Lima to capture local reactions to the event as well as to show Chord touring the empty lot that was the future home of the Glee amusement park. Quinn side-eyed Santana. "Are you upset that you're not at the premiere?"

Santana looked up from her phone. "Nope. Ryan doesn't want anyone to ask questions about my ear. And I could use the rest." She grinned at Quinn. "And, anyway, someone has to be on Tweet duty."

"How much do you earn per Tweet?"

"Oh, they don't pay me like they do Rachel. I get a certain amount of screen time based on my number of Glee related Retweets. I'm almost up to my first solo." Santana appeared quite pleased with herself.

Quinn faced the TV once more and her heart rate sped up. "Fuck! How did I miss her entrance?"

Santana crossed her arms and frowned as she watched Rachel being interviewed on TV. "She's very small…maybe you lost her in the crowd."

Quinn grabbed for the remote. "Shut up…I was too busy gawking at your ear to pay attention."

"Don't blame my ear for your negligence," Santana huffed.

Quinn put her finger to her mouth in a hushing gesture and both girls faced the TV. Quinn turned up the volume so that they could hear Rachel. "…And it is extremely unfortunate that the case had to go to court. I meant no harm." Rachel smiled politely.

Santana laughed. "I can't believe someone sued her over that. I mean, come on, it…"

Quinn and Santana both jumped a little as a loud (very loud) voice called out Rachel's name.

"Oh my God, that woman," Quinn breathed out as Dianna Agron embraced a clearly startled Rachel. Quinn had not told Rachel that she'd identified her stalker. And she hadn't let on to Dianna that she knew it was her leaving Rachel the notes. But showing up to Rachel's premiere? And interrupting her interview? Maybe Quinn should've said something to Rachel.

Quinn stared hard at the TV as Dianna kept reaching up and touching Rachel's ear. Rachel slouched beside her in obvious discomfort and bewilderment.

"The fuck is she doing?" Santana scowled. "She really seems to like Rachel's earrings."

Quinn motioned for Santana to be quiet as the interviewer asked Dianna how long she and Rachel had known each other. Beaming, Dianna replied, "Oh, this is actually the first time we've been formally introduced." Rachel nodded mutely.

Dianna continued, "But Rachel is a real role model of mine. She's the epitome of a strong, independent woman."

Santana fell off the couch in a fit of laughter. "Is she serious, Quinn? Is she?"

Quinn kicked at Santana as she listened to Dianna: "The other day, during a flight, some random guy kissed me and my first reaction was to wonder what Rachel would have done in that situation. So, I pushed him off me and told him to leave me alone. Usually, I'd have blamed myself for something like that. But not since I've known about Rachel."

Santana cackled wildly from the floor and Quinn finally lost it and joined her when Rachel – apparently still at a loss for words – simply gazed at Dianna with continued confusion outlining her features.

Santana wiped at her eyes. "Oh my God, I think _someone_ has a crush on our own little Rachel Berry."

Quinn sat back on the couch with one final giggle. "Yep. I bet Ms. Dianna Agron could give Rachel's stalker a good run for their money."

(2)

"We need to talk about your gay arm."

Quinn quickly opened a new tab on her computer. She didn't want Rachel to catch her on any real estate sites. As soon as Rachel let go of her half of the studio, Quinn was planning on moving as far away from Rachel as possible, so long as she could still easily commute to the studio. Tomorrow was the day Rachel had promised to sign the paperwork. All Quinn had to endure was one final date with Finn that evening.

Keeping her tone light, Quinn asked, "What do you mean by gay arm? And why aren't you on set?"

Rachel glared at Quinn's chest. "Here's a question for _you_: Why are you wearing that shirt?"

Quinn glanced down. "Because I believe in the cause."

Rachel stalked to the bedroom. "No, you do not. I saw you kill one the other day."

"That one landed directly on me," Quinn answered succinctly.

Rachel threw a shirt at her. "Change. Now. Is there anything you won't do lately to piss me off?"

Removing her Save the Spiders shirt, Quinn replied, "I'm just trying to keep you laughing, Rachel. Calm down."

"Just because I Retweeted someone who ate a spider to get me to Tweet them does not constitute me endorsing the killing of spiders. And I most certainly did not mean for that other guy to eat a tarantula, end up in the ER, and sue me and FOX studios for endangerment of health." Rachel swallowed a Xanax as she tossed Quinn's Save the Spiders shirt into the trash.

Treading carefully, Quinn said, "It was unfortunate. I sympathize with you." She pulled Rachel into a hug.

Sighing against Quinn, Rachel relaxed ever so slightly. "Ryan let me leave set so that I could talk to you about your gay arm before your date with Finn. He's been analyzing the photos of you and Finn. And he consulted some outside sources…you _definitely_ have a gay arm."

Quinn was baffled. "How is my arm any more or less gay than the rest of me?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't get it until Ryan showed me the pictures. Your arm is so…rigid. And you're forever putting your hand in your pocket and walking around that way."

Quinn's eyebrow rose. "Are both my arms gay?"

Rachel shook her head. "It appears that only the left one is gay."

"I see. And how do I go about straightening it out?"

Rachel sank down on the couch. "Just…relax your arm. And stop putting it in your pocket. Hold Finn's hand with your left hand. I think that might help."

Quinn shook her left arm back and forth. "All right. Whatever. It's only for one more night." Hesitating, Quinn finally asked, "How does Ryan still manage to exert so much control over the Glee set? Isn't he in New York scouting for his new project?"

Rachel flipped over on the couch so that her head was buried in one of the pillows. "He finds a way to be everywhere, Quinn. Here's an example for you: Yesterday, Jenna posted a picture on Twitter of her and a group of her girlfriends. Ryan made her take it down immediately. I mean, it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds after she posted it that he called her."

Quinn rolled Rachel over so that she could hear her better. "What was the problem with the photo?"

Rachel exhaled loudly before responding. "Jenna had a lollipop in one hand and a bag of Skittles in the other."

Rachel stopped talking. Quinn prompted her to keep going by flicking Rachel's wrist. "Ryan insisted that it could be construed as Jenna's way of endorsing the consumption of large and unhealthy amounts of sugar. Since kids make up a large portion of the Glee audience, he didn't want angry parents accusing Jenna of being a horrible role model who condoned unhealthy eating habits."

"But it was just candy," Quinn protested.

Rachel snorted. "According to Ryan, candy is the new cigarette. Jenna didn't make a fuss. She took the picture down and that was the end of it. So, Quinn, Ryan finds his ways. And he's especially ruthless these days. His reputation precedes him and he can't find a lead actress willing to work with him on American Horror Story. It's slowly driving him nuts."

"Bummer," Quinn remarked.

Rachel stood up and moved to the door. She stopped long enough to kiss Quinn on the cheek. "Gotta get back to the pool or Santana might kill me."

Quinn opened the door for Rachel. "How's her ear?"

Rachel paused on the steps. "Much better. But a swan went after her again today. I think the lasers really freak them out. See you after your date with Finn?"

"Absolutely." Quinn waited until Rachel's back was turned before she lifted her arm – the supposedly gay one – and gave Rachel's retreating form the finger.

(3)

Finn Hudson was a regular chatterbox. He liked to share his feelings. This is how Quinn had come to learn that he took Ambien so that he could sleep at night and that he still harbored an attraction to Rachel. She'd filed that information away until their last evening together.

Quinn could tell Finn was getting sleepy. She was thankful. And she was glad Finn remained as dumb as ever. He'd decided that the beer Quinn gave him when they first arrived back to Finn's hotel room was "really bitter." Quinn explained that it was a specialty brew and it was supposed to taste that way. She took a sip of her beer and smiled at Finn. Of course, her beer tasted fine, not bitter at all. But hers wasn't laced with two Ambien and a Xanax.

It had been Finn's constant talk of Rachel that had led her to this point. Quinn didn't like the way he kept referring to her as "the one that got away." It was more than enough to justify her current plan of action. Drugging him was merely the first step.

Finn favored her with his patented dopey grin. Santana always claimed it was Finn's mouth that drove her crazy. She stated that he constantly looked like a man who'd just had his first prostate exam and decided he might have liked it a little too much. But for Quinn…it was his eyebrows. The way they knitted together in puzzlement irked Quinn. Every…single…time.

Finn briefly shut his eyes before glancing back at Quinn. "You and Rachel, huh?"

Quinn eyed him blankly. "Me and Rachel what, Finn?"

"Are a couple." Finn was slurring his words now.

She titled her head at him. "A couple of what?"

Finn laughed. "You know…you two are together!"

"Together in what? Your logic is hard to follow."

Finn spilled some of his beer on his shirt. "Ha! Doesn't matter."

Quinn sat her beer on the table and leaned closer to Finn. "Ever do anything strange while on Ambien? Some people get up in the middle of the night and clean their entire house or cook meals."

There was that awful wrinkling of Finn's eyebrows again. "Nah, I just sleep. I'm kinda tired right now."

"I can leave," Quinn said with no real intent behind her words. She wasn't going anywhere. Not just yet.

"Stay," Finn said with a yawn. "Just gonna take a quick nap." And he fell back onto the bed like the beached whale that Santana had often argued that he resembled. Quinn finished her beer and listened as Finn's breathing grew steadily deeper. She walked over to him and snapped her fingers in front of his face. No response. She clapped her hands near his ear. Nothing. She shouted his name a couple of times. Nada.

She'd been in this hotel room at the conclusion of each date. Ryan wanted to make sure there were photos of Quinn actually "ending up" in Finn's room. She knew she'd find what she wanted lying on the bathroom counter. Whistling lowly, she picked up the electric razor and made her way over to Finn.

He even furrowed his brows in his fucking sleep. Time to put a stop to that particular Finn Hudson characteristic. Quinn bent lower and with one swipe of the electric razor, she shaved off one of Finn's annoying eyebrows. A second later, the other one was gone as well. And just because she could and he hadn't yet stirred, Quinn shaved a couple of bald patches in his hair.

Satisfied with Finn's new style, Quinn dropped the razor into his hand. She left him a note stating that he was sleeping so peacefully that she hated to wake him…and she hoped he had a safe trip back to Lima. She picked up the empty beer bottles scattered across the room to take with her (no point in leaving any evidence behind) and walked out the door.

She didn't really care if Finn pegged her as the one to have maimed his eyebrows. Or if he'd blame the Ambien. And if he did cry to Ryan that Quinn had ruined his self-proclaimed "boyish good looks," well, Quinn was fairly certain that Ryan would take care of the matter. Finn was no longer relevant to Ryan's agenda. He was, in other words, no longer in existence. As far as PR was concerned.

Quinn left the hotel and immediately shoved her left hand in her pocket. She walked all the way to her car that way and hoped someone captured a photo of her poor, misunderstood, rigid gay arm in action.

(4)

They signed the paperwork the next day. Rachel was obviously upset. Quinn had a bottle of champagne hidden in her refrigerator that she was ready to pop open as soon as Rachel left for work. But right after Quinn signed her name to the document; Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm and pushed her face-first against the wall.

Wide-eyed, Quinn struggled against Rachel. "What even are you trying right now, Rachel?"

In the deepest voice she'd ever heard from her, Rachel demanded that Quinn move against the wall. "Swirl your hips, Quinn."

"Wait, slow down, are you asking me to dry hump the wall?" Quinn turned her head toward Rachel but the other girl kept the rest of Quinn's body pinned securely against the wall. Rachel might be short and small, but she was extraordinarily strong.

Whispering into Quinn's ear, Rachel murmured, "In a moment, I'm going to turn you around and you are going to fuck me. But...you need to tell me that you love me when it happens."

Biting back her annoyance, Quinn said, "Again with the 'I love you' nonsense. Really? Must we? We've been doing so well not to take it there."

Rachel pressed her body more tightly against Quinn. "I gave you what you wanted. The dance studio is yours. Consider this my compensation."

Quinn managed to flip around to where Rachel's back hit the wall and Quinn's body anchored Rachel to it. "Wouldn't you agree that my time with Finn was your so-called compensation?"

"No," Rachel hissed. She shoved Quinn's hand down her pants and rocked forward so harshly that Quinn stumbled backwards the tiniest of steps. Rachel gripped Quinn's hair and jerked her closer. "I want to come, Quinn, and I need the relief. Move your fucking fingers inside me and tell me what I want to hear."

Rachel was so hot and insistent and forceful that Quinn did not dare go against Rachel's request. Honestly, she didn't want to say no.

Professing her love for Rachel had always been the best lie she'd ever told.

(5)

Quinn tried to find time the next few days to search for a new place to live. But Rachel had developed the odd and unsettling habit of showing up out of nowhere and demanding sex from her. Each time, Rachel commanded Quinn to say those three magic words that never failed to get Rachel off.

Quinn was beginning to think of it as a scientific experiment. Sometimes, she'd say filthy stuff in the attempt to make Rachel come. Quinn told her that she wanted Rachel to ride her face and come inside Quinn's mouth…but it was only when Quinn finished that thought (five minutes later) with an "I love you" that Rachel's body arched up with a scream.

On other occasions, Quinn tossed in some mundane details when she knew Rachel was close. "Hey, Rachel, we're out of milk and there's this weird smell coming from the garbage disposal." Rachel would stop moving and claw at Quinn's back in frustration. Quinn would then immediately lower her voice and drive her fingers deeper into Rachel as she said, "But none of that matters, right? Because I love you so fucking much. You should believe me. Believe me. I…love…you."

And Rachel always believed her enough to come.

(6)

Rachel's tears woke Quinn from a deep, drug induced sleep. Grunting, Quinn asked, "Why are you crying?"

Rachel faced Quinn from her side of the bed. "Dianna wants to adapt my first novel into a play. She mentioned it to me at the premiere. The only suggestion she had is that I change the name from its original title, Winter Waning, to Spring Awakening. She's gonna try to get it on Broadway."

Quinn linked her fingers through Rachel's. "So…what's with the tears?"

Rachel wailed, "I would be the perfect person to star in that play! It's from my book, after all!"

"Maybe Dianna could play the lead role. You, you won't be able to get out of your contract." Quinn yawned, turned over, and prepared to return to her land of dreams…

If not for Rachel's insistence that the conversation was not over. "Sometimes, Quinn, I think you are happy that my contract is so restrictive."

Quinn was glad that Rachel could not see the smug expression on her face. But she kept her voice level and syrupy-sweet. "Not true, Rachel, not even."

Rachel's voice was tired but firm. "I think it's super cute how you deny it."

Quinn grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and brought their faces close together. "You know what, Rachel? It wasn't me who signed that fucking contract. You're stuck. Stop bitching about it. You're only serving to irritate everyone around you…most especially me."

Rachel pushed Quinn off her and she exited the bedroom in a mad dash. She took it one step further by leaving Quinn's apartment altogether.

Quinn slept so well the rest of the night that she instinctively knew that, once she removed Rachel from her life completely, her sleeping routine was only going to get better. Much, much better.

(7)

Quinn had pilfered a few (not too many, though) Ambien from Finn. And, damn, was that shift effective. It knocked her out and kept her slumbering for 12 hours at a pop. But her brand new sleep cycle was interrupted one morning by the sound of something that resembled paper being ripped in half.

Stumbling out of her bedroom, Quinn halted in the doorway as she caught sight of Rachel. The girl was bending over a box and taping it shut – loudly – with packing tape. Well, that explained the noise but not the purpose behind it.

Quinn tugged at Rachel's arm. "What in God's name are you doing, Rachel? I haven't seen you in three days and you come back only to…" Quinn stopped talking. Maybe Rachel was here packing up her stuff. Perhaps Rachel was as ready to end their relationship as Quinn.

Rachel stretched her back and wiped a sweaty strand of hair from her face. Eyeing Quinn, she said, "I've already finished in the spare bedroom. I'm surprised that all the racket didn't wake you sooner…or maybe the pills have been particularly effective lately." Rachel smiled pleasantly at Quinn.

But Quinn didn't much appreciate that smile. It seemed too devious. And what did Rachel mean about being done in the spare bedroom? Nothing of Rachel's was in there.

Rachel started wrapping newspaper around the lamp in Quinn's living room. Quinn blinked several times until her vision was fully cleared. "Rachel…what is going on with you? Stop packing up my stuff. I haven't even found a new place yet."

Rachel graced her with that peculiar smile again. "I'm helping you get a good start. We're due in New York in two days."

Quinn plopped down on the couch and laughed a little. "You've totally lost me."

"Oh, Quinn, what were your words with regard to my contract? 'Stop bitching about it.' Am I correct that that's what you said to me?"

Quinn stayed silent as Rachel closed another box. Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Rachel addressed Quinn. "I took your advice. Instead of bitching about the contract…I got myself out of it."

Quinn smirked. "How, pray tell, did you manage that?"

Narrowing her eyes and looking at Quinn coldly, Rachel replied, "As I'm certain you're aware…most actresses in the business refuse to work with Ryan…and he really needs someone to play the main role in his new show. If I found someone for him…he promised to let me out of the contract so that I could act in Spring Awakening."

Quinn hesitated. Thought about it. Dismissed it. "No way you told him that I'd do it! I'm not even an actress!"

Bitterness crept into Rachel's voice. "Aren't you, though? Haven't you been pretending for nearly two years that you are in love with me? That you keep my best interests in mind? So…you haven't been checking out real estate sites so that you could leave me behind as soon as I signed over the dance studio to you?" Rachel ran a hand across Quinn's knee. "You really should look into deleting your Internet browsing history."

Quinn stood up and moved toward the kitchen for a pill. Of any kind. She pointed her finger at Rachel as she passed her. "It won't work. I'll _never _sign a contract with that man."

Rachel seemed legitimately sad. "Sweet, sweet, Quinn, I gave you _so many_ chances after I signed the studio over to you."

"Chances to do what? All I recall is that we fucked a lot." Quinn swallowed two Vicodin and shook her head at Rachel.

Tears trickled down Rachel's face. Rachel ignored them. "Chances to do the right thing and _actually love me_! Not just tell me with words…but show me! And…you wouldn't do it. You didn't even call me these past three days. Do you know how that made me feel?" Rachel picked up the packing tape and hurled it at Quinn. "Useless! Quinn, you made me feel useless!"

"And you retaliate with some stupid, unfeasible scheme? I'm not gonna be in Ryan's new show." Quinn moved to unpack one of the boxes.

Rachel shoved her aside. Her face was red with anger. "You don't get a choice. _You_ already signed the contract. I forged your fucking name."

Quinn doubled over in laughter. "That, you little bitch, will _never_ hold up in court."

Rachel lowered her voice and it took on an eerie, monotonous tone. "I dare you to question it. Go ahead, see how far you get. Ryan is ready for anything you might try to pull."

Quinn frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that, according to _your_ contract, you put a lien against your apartment and the dance studio in favor of future earnings of the show. You agreed to have me supervise your comings and goings until you can get your drug problem under control. And, if you refuse to cooperate with the mandates set forth, Ryan is more than prepared to slander your name."

Quinn was having trouble understanding what was happening to her life. Fifteen minutes ago she was happily asleep. Now, she was living out some absurd nightmare. "Slander me? Rachel, I make it no secret that I sleep with a lot of women and, hell, lots of people have drug problems."

Rachel moved closer to Quinn. "Ryan is in the preliminary stages of concocting a rumor that you and Puck had a baby together in high school. Puck was willing to raise the child. But you? You were such a heartless mother that you never even asked to see the baby after you gave birth."

Quinn's only response was hysterical laughter. "That is beyond illogical! Any number of my friends could prove that story false."

"What friends? Brittany: Still not terribly close to you and does everything Santana tells her. As for Santana, she's on my side, I'm afraid. If I leave Glee…she becomes the female lead. It's a win-win for her. People in Lima? They say the words that Ryan puts in their mouths. The only true friend you have is me."

Badly shaken and startled now, Quinn countered, "I'll call my father. He'll…he'll help me."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Will he now? I doubt that, dearest. FOX PR finds it best to declare to the world that your parents are dead. Your parents moved from Lima two days ago to assist in the fabrication. The character you play on American Horror Story also lost her parents. It's a way to relate your real life to the show."

Stunned, Quinn leapt forward. "Fuck off, Rachel! You can't control me." Quinn ran toward the door. But Rachel blocked her.

Easing a struggling Quinn back toward the living room, Rachel gritted out, "Ryan and his team will be here in a few minutes to help us pack. We're going to have a lot of fun in New York, Quinn. I believe that you should live with me in my apartment…that way I can keep good progress of your drug problem…just like I do in LA. The only thing that'll change is the scenery."

Quinn fought to maintain her balance as Rachel half-shoved, half-waltzed her across the apartment. She wrenched free and was nearly at the door when it swung open to reveal Ryan Murphy and a large number of his assistants. Quinn launched herself at his face. She clawed at his cheeks as he screamed and sputtered for help.

Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist and held her firmly away from Ryan. "Don't struggle, Quinn. Things will go easier on you if you accept your fate. And life will be so much better for you when you realize you are, in fact, in love with me." Rachel motioned for someone to come closer and she took a syringe that had suddenly appeared in their hand. She violently plunged the needle into Quinn's arm as Quinn doubled over in shock and pain.

Rachel eased them both to the ground. She ran her fingers soothingly through Quinn's hair. "Ryan used to give me this medicine sometimes. It relaxes you." Quinn could already feel herself drifting. Rachel's words were faraway and meaningless.

She fell asleep listening to Rachel promise her that she was going to love New York. She was going to love Rachel. Everything was okay. They were about to have their Spring Awakening.

***The End***

**AN: 75% of this chapter is based on Twitter conversations and a particular (ahem) Tumblr. The remaining 25% is Crazy!Rachel in action. I'll admit that the ending of this story is much darker than you might have imagined as you read the rest of the chapters…and the first part of this chapter. I think, in part, it's a reflection of how I feel about canon Glee at this point.**

**I had a lot of fun with this story. And I have to say a MASSIVE thank you to those certain few on Twitter who have read the story and enjoyed it enough to get creative with it. I'm happy to have met you, my Tweet peeps. **


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